signs and had her ticket checked. The man behind the desk asked for her passport. He thumbed through it, then looked at her.
'You don't seem to have a visa?'
'I was told that I could buy one at the airport in Maputo.'
'Sometimes you can, sometimes you can't.'
'What happens if I can't?'
The man behind the desk shrugged. His black face was dripping with sweat.
'In that case you are welcome to spend your time here in South Africa. As far as I know there isn't a single lion or leopard or even a hippo in Mozambique for you to see.'
'I haven't come here to look at animals!'
I'm screeching, she thought with a sigh. I'm using my tired and shrill voice. I'm exhausted, I'm sweaty, my son is dead. How will he be able to understand that?
'My son is dead,' she said out of the blue, an unexpected piece of information that nobody had asked for.
The man behind the desk frowned.
'You're bound to get your visa in Maputo,' he said. 'Especially if your son is dead. I'm sorry to hear about that.'
She went to the large departure lounge, exchanged some money for South African rands, and drank a cup of coffee. Looking back, she would recall the hours she spent at the airport in Johannesburg as one long wait, shut inside a vacuum. She could remember no sounds, no music from invisible loudspeakers, no announcements about impending departures or safety regulations. Nothing but unbroken silence, and a vague glimmer of colours.
Least of all could she remember any people. It was only when she heard the announcement: 'South African Airways flight 143 to Maputo', that she was hurled back into the real world.
She fell asleep from sheer exhaustion and woke up with a start when they landed in Maputo. She could see through the window that it was greener here. But still pale, shabby, a desert scantily covered by sparse grass.
The landscape reminded her of Aron's thinning hair on the crown of his head.
The heat hit her like a clenched fist as she left the aeroplane and walked to the terminal. The bright sunlight forced her to screw up her eyes. What the hell am I doing here? she thought. I'm going to look for a girl called Lucinda. But why?
She was able to purchase a visa with no problems, although she had a strong suspicion that she had been charged far too much for the stamp in her passport. Sweat was pouring off her as she stood beside her suitcase. I must make a plan, she thought. I need a car and I need a hotel, most of all a hotel.
A black man in a uniform was standing next to her. He had a badge saying Hotel Polana. He saw that she was looking at him.
'Hotel Polana?'
'Yes.'
'Your name?'
'I haven't booked a room.'
By then she had managed to read his name: Rogerio Mandlate.
'Do you think there might be a room for me even so, Mr Mandlate?'
'I can't promise anything.'
She was driven off in a minibus together with four white South African men and women. The city was frazzling in the heat. They passed through extremely deprived areas. People everywhere, children, mainly children.
It occurred to her that Henrik must have travelled along this road as well. He had seen the same sights as she was seeing. But had he thought the same thoughts? There was no way of knowing. She would never have an answer.
The sun was directly overhead when she arrived at the white, palatial hotel. She was given a room with a view over the Indian Ocean. She adjusted the air conditioning in an attempt to cool the room down, and thought about the bitterly cold mornings in H盲rjedalen. Extreme heat and extreme cold balance each other out, she thought. I learned in Greece that I could tolerate the extreme heat because my body was used to the other extreme. Both H盲rjedalen and Greece have conditioned me to survive this ridiculously hot climate.
She undressed, stood naked in the cold air coming from the contraption on the wall, then stepped into the shower. She slowly washed away that long flight.
Then she sat down on the bed, switched on her mobile and rang Aron. There was no reply, just a voice requesting her to try again later. She stretched out on the bed, pulled the thin cover over her body and fell asleep.
When she woke up she had no idea where she was. The room was distinctly cool, the clock showed ten minutes to one. She